Dancing
by Lynnember
Summary: This story closely explores Vegeta and Bra's relationship. Vegeta helps Bra find her ki for dancing. Bra, however, wants to learn martial arts as well, and it opens up a totally new bond between the two.
1. Default Chapter

Dancing

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, this is just me occupying my small little mind and exploring my own obsessions.

A large square rug lay at one end of the glossy wooden floor. It was the colour of dried blood, richly adorned with a coat of arms in blue, green and gold. The floor itself seemed to get larger the longer he looked at it. The parquetry he was told was intended to trick the eye –to look as though it were expanding in front of you. He was likewise informed it was inlaid in satin and box woods, exotic and expensive and done by an artisan several hundred years ago for the prince of an earth country called Spain. Now it was transplanted to her home, giving its cared and highly polished surface for him to sit on as he slowly pulled his legs up and tugged his boots off.

Long glass mirrors surrounded all sides of the room, only leaving one wall free. Floor to ceiling windows graced that side and a rail joined around the mirrors for a function he had long since become familiar with. This room served no purpose for him. He didn't need to be there and he had no real reason to be next to the lush rug, bought, no doubt, from some other empire her family had visited, and which now decorated her house as hundreds of other highly expensive trinkets did.

He looked into the mirrors in front of him. There was no escaping himself in here. His visage reflected back from three different directions, each one as stark and detached as the other. He didn't feel his mouth draw down but his image frowned back at him nonetheless, showing the expression he held more than he was aware. His eyes were scowled and low and with the storm of his essence swimming threateningly under the glazed surface.

The humans were right. The eyes really were the windows to the soul.

He let a sharp canine pop over his lower lip and sneered at the image. Discarding his sweaty training shirt, he kicked back to lie down on the rug, and rested on crossed arms. He wondered if he would have to wait long. There were no clocks in this room and he felt uncomfortable just sitting around doing nothing. Relaxation didn't come easy to a warrior, and Vegeta was always fidgety when he wasn't training or eating.

Only a click from the other end of the room drew his attention that way. A panel of the glass popped open and two wide eyes peered through.

"Are you in here, Vegeta?"

He didn't answer for one very good reason - he enjoyed being difficult.

The door opened further and Bulma walked in, carefully closing it shut before stepping out into the room. Her eyes were scowled, as though reproaching him for not answering, but her anger was cleared a moment later without any other fuss or rebuke. She was always more receptive and compliant after he had been absent for a few weeks and it appeared that, for the moment, she was just happy he was there.

"Well, where is she?" he asked.

"She's washing her hands. They had painting hour at school today, and from the looks of it I say she managed to get more on herself than the paper."

He chuckled lowly.

"So are you ready for this?" she whispered, undoing the tie that held her hair up, and letting the amazing sea coloured strands fall down her neck.

"It's as I told you - a true warrior is ready for any situation."

Bulma rolled her eyes and laughed lightly at him, but it didn't sour his mood. With a shrug she proceeded to unbutton her long work jacket and slid the material onto the floor next to his training top. The tight white shirt she wore underneath dipped low between the breasts and clung to her sides, perfectly accentuating her beautiful figure.

Fluffing her hair she tiptoed cautiously to sit on the rug, tugging her skirt down a little as her bottom squirmed next to his chest.

"There's really no need for us to be whispering," he pointed out as Bulma lay down. "Bra might not know it, but her senses are keen. She will know I am here."

He let a strong arm wrap around her middle, pulling her close.

"I know, but don't you want her to find us through her instincts rather than letting her _hear_ us?"

Vegeta only grunted. It was his way of saying she was right, of course, and nothing more was needed to let Bulma know as much. Some words were, he freely admitted, still difficult to say out loud.

There was silence as both parents listened for the first telltale signs of movement nearby.

"Perhaps she decided to watch television instead," he snorted, ready to leave and give the impression he really didn't want to be there.

Bulma grabbed his arm as he tried to move away. "Just a little longer. Trunks is on the lookout. He'll make sure she finds us, even if he has to tell her outright where we are."

He relented. It was almost instinctive for him to mask his true intention to stay and so with a snort, he completed his fake with pride still in tact.

Side by side they sat together and waited.

Vegeta was the first to hear her. His eyes slid to the mirrored door and picked up the sound of giggling coming from behind it. Bulma looked to him now, one eyebrow hiked, and he returned the gesture with a smirk.

The door creaked open, but this time the mirrors weren't carefully pushed flush. Instead the door was flung hard on the hinges as a seven-year-old half-breed barrelled her way through and both parents winced as the mirrors clanged noisily together.

Fortunately there was no damage done and Vegeta was able to recover in time to catch hold of the aquamarine blur as she ran headfirst at him.

"Daddy!" she squealed, hooking her small arms around his broad chest, and succeeding in making him flop back onto the plush rug. "I missed you!"

Indulging in the embrace, but only for a second, he pulled her protesting limbs from his body and held her above him with locked arms as she fought for the right to be nearer.

"I was only gone for a month, Bra," he reprimanded. "What a big fuss over nothing."

"It might be nothing to you, but for a seven-year-old it's an eternity." Bulma smiled, apparently amused at his discomfort. "How did it go, anyway?"

"How do you think? Kakarrot was his usual idiotic self. I should have known better than to let you talk me into it."

She laughed and raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You mean to say you didn't like beating up on him day and night and uninterrupted, for what - thirty days straight?"

Vegeta simply scowled.

"So?"

"So what?" he questioned, as Bra pleaded with him to sit on his lap - a plea that landed on deaf ears.

"Tell me about it. Where did you go? What did you learn?"

Vegeta thought how best to go about his narrative, and motioned to the capsule Bulma was concealing in the buckle of her belt. She smiled warmly as he set Bra down and then squeezed the small gift into her daughter's hand.

"I thought you might like this," she said, letting her painted lips kiss Bra's forehead. "Take it to the other side of the room and de-cap it while I talk to daddy, okay?"

With a beaming grin, Bra tottered off to explore her newest treasure, and Bulma turned her attention back to him.

"We went to a disused planet in Alpha Four," Vegeta explained, confident he had her undivided attention. "Kakarrot wanted to spend the whole time on New Namek of course, but I talked him out of it."

"A disused planet in Alpha Four?"

"Yes."

"But I wasn't aware there were any planets in that region capable of sustaining life. How did you know it was there?"

He frowned. His past was always a sore point, and although she seemed to blindly accept it, he still couldn't allude to it without feeling like he was betraying her in some way – a feeling he scorned, but which always seemed to ease his conscience – such as it was.

"It was one of Frieza's military bases," he explained. "I was stationed there many times before I came to Earth. It was one of the first bases I took care of after his _supposed _death – when I was searching for Kakarrot. We found it much as I left it – all those years ago. I imagine no one wanted to associate them selves with the Ice-jin and risk becoming a target for me or any other would-be assassin, so it was left alone." He smirked. "Besides, I didn't leave much in tact for any scavengers to plunder."

He was sure Bulma didn't miss the meaning behind the last part, but she chose to occupy the silence in watching Bra's face as the capsule she'd been handed exploded into a large but shallow box, almost packed to overflowing with pink tissue paper. Vegeta wasn't surprised. She accepted him, for some insane reason, she loved him, and his past didn't seem to matter. Not to Bulma.

Bra's box was mint green in colour and wrapped with yet more pink, this time in a ribbon, as though to make the suspense and experience last longer.

"So did Uub go with you?" Bulma asked, still watching Bra's little fingers carefully untie the ribbons.

"No, thank Dende! Kakarrot invited him, but he didn't want to leave the village. I still don't believe that such a scrawny child is the reincarnation of Buu. Power like that belongs to someone capable of wielding it properly, certainly not an inexperienced and cowardly child."

"But isn't that exactly _why_ Son-Kun wanted to train him? To prepare him for it?"

"Scant consolation for his family."

Vegeta had tried not to be a witness to the confrontations that took place between Gohan's mother and his 'Travel Buddy' (as Kakarrot had dubbed them on take off) but in a ship only half the size of the room he was currently in, it was difficult not to hear _her_ shrill voice or _his_ pathetic apologies – apologies that were needless because, when it came to his family, most of Kakarrot's promises were already broken.

Bulma looked at him as though he'd just told her "he'd had a nice day" and was "happy to see her." A look that hinted she liked what she heard, but which she had never in a million years expected _him_ to say. Vegeta indulged in a wry grin. He didn't mind her seeing his power trip, or the pleasure he derived from being able to shock her - even after all the years they had shared a bed.

Vegeta stopped gloating. With nothing more than a change of 'look' Bulma was immediately demanding further explanation. He _could_ choose to ignore it of course, but there wasn't much point. He was always eager to enter a subject that put Kakarrot in a less than perfect light.

"Kakarrot has been training the boy constantly since the World Martial Arts Tournament," he explained. "His time has been spent equally between staying in Uub's village and training at the Lookout. If you had been away from your family for nearly six months and finally got a month of free time, how would you spend it?"

Bulma shook her head and rubbed her temples. "He didn't go home before you both left?"

"For one night. That is all. I'd say that (in this case) the Bitch had a right to bitch."

"Unbelievable! Is he trying to push her away? You know, I know it sounds horrible, but sometimes I think it would be easier on Chi if he was still in Other World."

"Well," said Vegeta, arrogantly wiping his bottom lip, "that can always be arranged. Now can we drop the subject? I've been stuck with the buffoon for thirty days, I _don't_ want to sit here playing marriage counsellor!"

He turned to look across the room. Bra had gone beyond the pink tissue paper and was now holding up her prize. Tears were starting to well as she scanned the deep pink tutu. They overflowed as her blue eyes took in the hand-sewn sequin and bead designs. Her hand reached up to ruffle through the skirt and made the fabric shimmer and sparkle in the late afternoon sunshine. Her small body shook.

Bulma turned to him and they shared a look, both knowing what would come next. Vegeta calmly put his palms against the side of his head to protect his ears as the bawling commenced. Even through the protection of his hands, the volume could be described as inhuman, and - considering her paternity – it probably was.

"What's the matter B-chan? Don't you like it?" Bulma asked, as Bra paused for breath and the wailing subsided. She already knew the answer of course, but children were hard to fool and they both knew enough of her disposition to realize that if this weren't handled correctly, then all the preparation would be in vain.

"No!" the child huffed. "I don't." Her young hands balled the dress up and threw it as far away as possible. Vegeta noted that it was further than most children of her age could manage, and with better direction.

With that unflappable business-like manner, Bulma walked over to the fallen present and smoothed it out before confronting Bra. "But Grandma made it especially for you. She spent two weeks sewing on the beads."

"I don't care! It looks ridic-ridicilous. I don't want to dance anymore."

And so Bulma effortlessly reached the root of the problem. "Oh? But why? You dance so well B-chan, just like a princess."

"Psh! Silly Momma. I AM a princess!"

Vegeta failed to stifle his chuckle, earning another 'look' from Bulma – one that told him he _really _wasn't helping. He snorted. What did she seriously expect from him? This hadn't been his idea, he'd just replied 'yes' to everything she'd said in a call that reached him three hours into his sleep. He really hadn't listened to what problem was bugging her at the time and had answered with as little fuss as possible so as to calm her and let himself get the sleep his tired and sore body needed. She was too intelligent not to have realized it as well, and had probably purposefully spoken to him when she knew he was at his most pliable.

All the same, once he had learned what it was about (the next day- when she replayed the entire conversation back to him) he had deemed it a reasonable course of action and had even felt a little anticipation for Bulma's remedy, but that didn't mean he was going to play house for her. He liked the sharp tongue and pride his daughter held, even at such a tender age, and he would do nothing to tame her wild nature, just as he hadn't with Trunks.

At this delicate point with their daughter - Bulma was on her own.

"So what's the problem?"

"Mrs. Daliaeu was MEAN, Momma! I want to go up to level three with the others, but she said no! I don't see why I shouldn't. I've been doing it longer than Sara and Jake and they both went up last week. It's not fair! Sara's always sticking her tongue out at me and saying there's something wrong with me - that I'm not normal."

"Why would she say there's something wrong with you?"

Bra averted her gaze, looked down to the floor and twisted a foot into it. She mumbled something as well, but it was too quiet and muddled to hear properly.

"I didn't hear that, Bra. Could you say it again a little louder?" Bulma continued in a similarly calm way.

Silence.

"Bra?"

"B… Because," she sniffled. "Because I kicked Bunnykins through the wall!"

Bulma laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and turned to Vegeta.

"Bunnykins?" he mouthed in confusion.

"You kicked Sara's toy rabbit through a wall?"

Bra nodded, tears still streaming down her face as she chewed on her thumbnail. "She made me so mad!"

From Bulma's look, Vegeta could tell that Mrs. Daliaeu had chosen not to share this titbit of information, but as he felt his astonishment rise and his pulse quicken at the discovery - Bulma didn't let it faze her.

"Do you know what happened the other day after dance class, when you went to wait in the car with Trunks?"

Bra shook her head.

"Mrs. Daliaeu spoke to me and told me why she decided not to put you up to the next level. She said that you'd been taught enough and that you could remember the steps better than anyone else in the class, but that you needed more practice with balance before you moved on."

Bulma rubbed her hand reassuringly up and down the child's back.

"What do you think, Bra? Do you think she's right?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Do you still think it's unfair?"

"Maybe," she replied with a sniffle. "I just want to be the best Momma, but I keep getting dizzy on the turns and start falling over. It's too hard."

"Nonsense child!"

Both Bra and Bulma turned to face Vegeta as he broke his silence.

"Nothing is ever too hard if you want it badly enough."

"But Daddy…!"

"But nothing!" he dismissed as he stood, making sure to look authoritatively down at his daughter. "Your mother has already spoken to me concerning this matter and I have decided you will benefit from my guidance."

Bra's eyes widened and she jumped up and down. "You know how to dance Daddy! That's so cool!"

Vegeta stuttered mid-stride and Bulma burst into a fit of giggles.

"Did Grandma put beads and sequins on your outfits too?"

"I do NOT dance!"

Bra snorted and crossing her arms, turned away. "Then why should I let you help? You're no good to me if you can't dance."

"I might not be able to help you dance, Bra, but…." He flipped over the young child's head with a summersault and landed in a perfect one-handed handstand in front of her. "When it comes to balance and controlling my senses - I'm in a league of my own."

Bra's tears were now all but forgotten. Wide eyes peered at Vegeta as he continued to stare at her from upside down.

"You want to teach me martial arts?"

"Some aspects of it. Yes."

"But Daddy, you said you didn't want to."

Vegeta removed his standing hand, crossed his arms and slowly manoeuvred into an upright position. Bra was right. She had asked him on several occasions if he would train her as he had Trunks, but he had refused. It just wasn't right. He'd asked himself many times why he made this distinction between his two children. When Trunks was born his only interest was for the child to learn martial arts, so as to one day become as strong as he was, perhaps even stronger, but he never felt that way when Bra was born. Perhaps it was the change of priorities he suffered after the fight with Buu. He always saw Bra as a big part of his redemption. Just as Trunks was the first steppingstone; Bra's birth secured it. Trunks would be there to protect his family and their home when he was gone, but Bra – Bra didn't need to learn. She had more human characteristics than Saiyan and in so many ways it didn't seem fair. He had imposed too much of himself on his son, he would not make the same mistake twice.

"I know what I said, but just because I don't want you to learn to fight, doesn't mean that I'm not prepared to teach you some basics. They will give you an advantage for many things in life, not just fighting. Learning to control your ki will automatically help your balance and agility. And once you learn how to manipulate it properly, you will be able to dance like no one else on this planet. What do you say?" He held out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Bra's features twisted into an expression he had seen a thousand times from Bulma. Her eyebrows dipped in the middle and her small lips slid into a satisfied and determined smirk. She grabbed his hand, so much pride visible on her face! "Deal! Can we start now?"

Vegeta frowned and looked to Bulma. She shrugged her shoulders, leaving the decision to him. He hadn't planned on starting the instruction so soon. Still a little disorientated and tired from his trip, he'd planned on leaving Trunks with Bra and stealing his mate away for an early night.

"It would be better to wait until the morning."

"But this is important, Daddy. I have to be better than Sara! Please!"

"You might as well, Vegeta," Bulma said, standing and slipping her jacket back on. "I still have a few loose ends to tie up at work, and Trunks wants to come with me, seeing as he's going to start training up next week."

"See! Just you and me. We'll have fun, fun, fuuuuuuun!"

Vegeta knew he was losing the battle. One pair of those piercing blue eyes was hard to ignore – two were practically impossible.

"Very well." He sneered. "But only half an hour, not a minute more."

Bra jumped into the air and giggled as Bulma laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him reassuringly.

"I'll see you two later," she said, sneaking a quick kiss to his cheek. "Make sure you listen to Daddy and are a good girl, Bra. Bye-bye and make sure to have lots of fun, fun, fuuuuuuuun!"

Vegeta scowled as the door clicked closed behind her and then turned his attention to his daughter.

"Bra! You will listen to everything I say and you will listen with both ears because I am not a Dictaphone - you miss something once - I will not repeat it. You will concentrate and copy everything I do and you will do it without question and with minimal talking and fuss. Should you say one word that is irrelevant to your training, or misbehave in any way the deal is off. What I am about to teach you is the culmination of decades of dedication to my training and owes its roots to your ancestors and the royal house of Vegeta. I will not suffer you to disrespect your heritage by misbehaving. Do you understand me?"

In that instant all childlike qualities seemed to leave Bra. She looked ten years older and nodded with nothing but concentration and determination. Maybe this would be easier and more rewarding than he had originally thought.

"Come here Bra," he said, kneeling on the floor and motioning for her to do the same. She went to settle beside him but he shuffled her around to be directly in front. This would afford her the best possible view as he explained.

"So…" he began, "can you tell me what ki is?"

"It makes you fly and lets you fight with fire!" Bra answered enthusiastically.

"Yes it does Bra," he agreed, "but that is only one of its many uses. Can you tell me what colour it is?"

"Yellow…" she paused, "no… white, and sometimes blue."

Vegeta shook his head. "Ki has no colour. It is the manipulation of the person wielding it that gives it colour in martial arts. The more power the more condensed the ki, thus changing the air around it and producing a 'glow.' But, as you so rightly said, I use my ki to fly, and I don't always have an aura when I float. That's because it doesn't take much ki to float, it does however take a lot of ki to fly quickly or fire a ball of energy."

"Does everyone have ki?"

"Yes."

"So Sara has ki too?"

"Yes."

"Does she use ki to dance?"

"I wouldn't know," he said with a frown. "But I doubt it. Not many earthlings know how to harness their ki energy, and the majority don't have enough to even begin to be able to use it the way you will yours. Ki is an invisible power that every living creature possesses. It runs along in a never-ending stream through your body, and will remain only for the purpose of life, unless you learn how to use it properly. The body's natural rhythm can inhibit or enhance the flow, based on the health and knowledge each person holds. You are young, healthy, and because of your Saiyan genetics, exceedingly lucky in the strength of the ki running though you. Once I have trained you, you will also have the ability to control it, but ki doesn't become pliable or a commodity to be used or spared easily, you have to draw it out before you begin anything more complex. That is what we will focus on first – drawing out your ki."

Vegeta stood up, urging Bra to do the same.

"There are several ways to draw out ki, one is through meditation and we will come to that in a minute. First of all I want you to go through a set of exercises with me, starting with ki breathing."

"Ki breathing?" Bra repeated, a little fear clogging her throat. "I'm going to breathe ki?"

Vegeta laughed. "In a way. You're going to learn to extract ki by learning to control your breathing."

"Oh."

"I want you to stand like this," Vegeta continued, placing his right hand on his abdomen and the other on his chest, "Only with your left hand on your stomach."

"Why is it different for me?"

"Because you are female. Ki runs through males differently to females."

"Like this?" she asked, mimicking his pose.

"Almost, put your right hand a little higher."

"There?"

"Better," he admitted. "Now slow your breathing down, take a large breath, but make sure that only your left hand moves. If your chest moves then you are breathing wrong. You need to make sure the diaphragm is working at optimum levels to gather ki."

They both fell into silence. Vegeta watched with a critical eye as Bra's eyes closed. She was concentrating hard and doing exactly as he requested. It took a while for her to get over her natural instinct to breath with the chest, but it appeared she was a quick learner. It was a characteristic of Bulma's genetics, he presumed, and was grateful for it. He wasn't an overly practiced or patient teacher.

"That's enough," he interrupted after ten minutes. "You seem to have grasped that concept, now we'll concentrate on vocalising it."

Bra opened her eyes and sighed as her breathing returned to normal. "What does vocal… vocaliz…? What does that mean?"

"It means adding noises with your throat. I'll show you."

Vegeta took in a deep breath, held it for a while and then expelled it sharply, making the mirrors and windows vibrate slightly. He had to use every bit of strength in his body to hold his ki back. He was so well in tune with his own energy now that even the slightest lack of concentration in such a teaching could cause serious structural damage.

Bra giggled. "Daddy you sounded funny! I've heard you growl like a bear in training, but that was more like a hiccup!"

Vegeta stared at her. He wasn't sure if he were more offended she would call his teachings funny, or satisfied because she separated the difference between the two sounds so easily.

"That is because they are used for two different purposes child. The short ki up or what you called a 'hiccup' is used for summoning small bursts of ki, and the other, more growling noise is used for more sustained energy use, usually when the body is put under great stress. You will not need to worry about the latter, dancing will probably only require the most basic of ki up's."

"But it sounds so silly!"

Vegeta's eyes reduced to slits. He didn't know how to feel about her dismissal of pinpoint vocalization. Perhaps it was just because the sound was so foreign and she was nervous about being made fun of. Vegeta knew that every situation life threw at you required modified tactics. Bra was not learning to fight - she was learning to dance. Not all the techniques he had been taught would be relevant to it. He had to be flexible with regards to her pride.

"Very well. Try it once, and if you don't think it is appropriate for dancing then we will concentrate solely on meditation and manipulation."

"Okay, but I'm only doing it once."

"Just once – now take a deep breath, and hold it a few seconds before exhaling it as quickly as you can. Don't try to make a noise, forcing the air out will create the noise in itself."

Vegeta found it impossible to look away. She might well feel slightly self-conscious doing this, but she gave it just as much gusto and determination as she had showed before. He saw her small body draw in a long breath and hold it. "Exhale on the count of three," he ordered. "One… Two… Three!"

It wasn't loud - indeed it was just what he had hoped it would be, more breath than sound. Bra looked up to him with a slight blush burning her cheeks and he voiced his approval in a curt nod of the head.

"Will you do it again?"

"For you Daddy… yes."

"But you wouldn't like to do it in front of others."

She shook her head. "They'd laugh."

"Then we will leave it and move on to meditation. We'll need to kneel again for this," he said, "But we'll kneel on the rug because we'll be doing it for a while. I will tell you the truth, Bra. You will lose feeling in your legs, because kneeling will temporarily stop the flow of blood to them, but you must not move until the meditation is complete. That is absolutely vital."

She nodded her agreement as he turned heal and Bra skipped happily after him. He took up his position, again making his daughter face him.

"The meditation I am about to show you was taught to me by my father when I was five years old. It is over two thousand years old and was originally used before the tribal elders went out to defend or expand their territories. It came from a Saiyan country in the northern hemisphere of Vegeta-sei called 'Hyori.' That is the tribe that our blood is descended from and for centuries this knowledge has been handed down from generation to generation. I taught it to Trunks before you were born and now it is your turn to learn."

"Wow Daddy, you're so cool!"

He chuckled. "I know. Now you have to use that far too clever little head of yours to remember the positions. There are twelve in total, so keep up. We'll do it a few times but then you have to close your eyes and concentrate on nothing but your own body."

Vegeta adjusted his position, finding a spot that was more comfortable than how he had knelt originally. His student did the same.

"Relax your arms and lay your palms face down on you knees," he ordered. "This is position one. Remember your ki breathing?"

"Yes"

"Well this is how we're going to put it into practice, deep breaths in and long breaths out - slow it right down. We'll do five complete breaths and then move on."

Vegeta couldn't quite believe how quickly and naturally she was picking up all the information. Perhaps, he conceded, it had been a mistake not to teach her this sooner.

"Part Two – palms facing together an inch apart and fingers wide."

Perhaps she could be an able warrior, just as Trunks had become.

"Part Three – Push the right arm out, keeping the palm flat."

But she didn't need to fight, Earth had its next generation of warriors.

"Part Four – Is the same as part two."

Gohan, Trunks, Goten, Dende, Uub… she didn't need to fight.

"Part Five – Turn the palms. One up, one down, and with the right on top. Don't forget your breathing."

No she didn't _need_ to, but from a young age – the age it was proper for a Saiyan to wish it, she had _asked_ to learn.

"Part Six – Switch it over. Left hand on top."

Hadn't he promised himself on her birth that he would grant her anything it was in his power to offer?

"Part Seven – Cross your hands at the wrists and keep the fingers closed."

She had wanted to train and he'd said no… why?

"Part Eight - Make your hands into fists."

Because he didn't want her to have anything to cloud the brilliance of those sparkling blue eyes.

"Part Nine – Keep your hands in the same position but lay them on your thighs."

He _wanted_ to be allowed to protect her, to keep her away from all the viciousness he was a part of.

"Part Ten – Twist the right hand under the left and bring them to your chest, still crossed and in fists."

He wanted to show that he wasn't on earth to bread a future Saiyan army, but because he _wanted_ to be there.

"Part Eleven – Bring your hands down and do the same as part seven."

Bra was his proof. She was his gift of commitment to Bulma and Trunks, she was _his _daughter… and he was being selfish.

"Part Twelve – relax you hands back onto your knees once again."

So selfish that he had forgotten that she still had a say in the matter. It had been wrong, he admitted, to tell her no when she had asked him to train her.

Over and over he went through the situation as he took Bra through her meditation positions one more time. On each occasion he felt guilty about keeping her away from her heritage. Just because she was a female and looked the spitting image of her mother, didn't change the fact that she was still half Saiyan. He silently vowed to settle the situation once and for all as soon as they were through.

"Do it on your own and with your eyes closed now. You _need_ to remember the positions, can you?"

She didn't answer but showed him instead. He had to put her right a couple of times, but that was to be expected.

She'd gone through the process near on five times before Vegeta interrupted her again. "How do your hands feel?" he asked.

"Weird! They're all hot and tingly!"

"Good, that's supposed to be happening, stop at number two and try to put your hands together – so they touch."

Bra nodded and tried to do as he asked.

He laughed after a minute or two of watching her struggle. "Having a spot of trouble?"

"How cool is that!" she shrieked, and all at once her concentration was lost and her hands slapped together in a clap. "Awwwww!" she sulked. "I lost it!"

"Yes. But you have to have something there in the first place for you to be able to lose it. The resistance – the pressure you felt between your palms – that was your ki."

"It was?"

Vegeta nodded and crossed his arms over his chest.

"But I lost it!"

"Because you stopped trying and broke the meditation. Not bad for a first attempt, but you will have to work and train hard to be able to use it well enough for dancing. Do you want to continue?"

"Yes, yes, yeeees! I wanna learn it all, Daddy. Teach it to me… pleeeeease!"

He crouched down to Bra's level, letting his imposing gaze fall seriously over her alight and alive eyes. "All of it? Do you want to learn to fight, Bra, like Trunks and I?"

"And Goten! He's makes the best fighting names! He's so silly, but Pan and I make him carry stuff for us and he makes me laugh."

"Then perhaps… when you have shown Sara what it _really _means to dance. I will teach you what it _really _means to fight."

"I'd like that Daddy. Can I practice some more now?"

Vegeta frowned. "No more. Your half hour is already up. Go find your Grandma and show her what you look like in your new dress."

Bra smiled, picking up the fallen tutu with renewed enthusiasm as she rubbed the pins and needles from her legs. "What are you going to do? I want you to see how pretty I am in my dress."

"That isn't necessary, Bra. If your mother isn't back then I'm going to train."

"And if she is?"

He smirked. "Then you don't need to know what I'm doing, Bra, so stay with Grandma."

That day managed to change how Vegeta viewed his daughter.

In some ways Bra was a more dedicated and intelligent student than her brother was, even if she lacked his power. Vegeta was unsure whether it was because of her calculating nature or because of his altered teaching techniques, but she was learning at an expediential rate.

He had never trained anyone other than soldiers in Freeza's army before Trunks came along, and he feared that the brutality of that training had influenced the way he had taught his son. On many occasions he had hit Trunks first and trained him as a means to survive, only regulating his power in accordance to his son's. With Bra it was different. She was never going to be as powerful as her brother, her ki was too restricted, but she would still be superior to the majority of the human race. He was actually starting to enjoy the teaching aspect. It would never be the same heady enjoyment he got from his own and his son's brutal training, but he at least admitted that a softer approach was indeed an adequate means of teaching and held its own reward.

Now he understood why Kakarrot was so eager to teach.

After only one month Bra was able to harness her latent ki and control it and devise a way to let it aid her in dance.

It didn't excuse the third-class, but Vegeta could very easily see how teaching could become addictive.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the world Vegeta had watched with pride as Bra pirouetted around the dance room, regulating her ki and manipulating it to balance out the energetic movement. He had, once or twice, heard a slight vocalization to go along with a particularly difficult jump or turn, done without her even realizing and which fitted in with the dance and didn't seem out of place at all.

Her second test for level three was only a few days away and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would pass with flying colours. Once that was out of the way then her real training would begin. He would teach her the true Hyori martial art, unlike the amalgamation of styles he had adopted over the years. He would teach Bra the tradition and honour of her heritage, untainted by anything darker, and, quite frankly - he couldn't wait.

A/N – Ah! Martial arts and writing! Two of my favourite hobbies rolled into one. I haven't really explored Vegeta and Bra's relationship before and this was refreshing. I just hope I kept it IC.

hugs

Ember

This story is also posted and is up to part four on mediaminer. I am re-editing this story as I post it here. I haven't posted anything here for a while. Not since my last account got deleted, but I really would like fresh input on it.


	2. Chapter 2

Dancing

Part Two

Disclaimer: DBZ and the martial arts incorporated (from the Korean Martial of Kuk Sool Won) are not mine.

Vegeta leaned back, supporting his body on the limb of a cherry tree. His view of the dance room was unencumbered as he watched Bra spin around and around, safe in the knowledge that he could do so without being noticed. Three weeks ago Bra had taken her second test for level three, and one week ago to the day she had received the results. That she passed was of little surprise to Vegeta. Bra had worked hard, trained well, and soaked up all his teachings in a way that only a young child could.

He wasn't, however, watching his daughter to take pleasure from her performance. He had pride when he saw her stick the turns that no more than a month ago had her on the verge of defeat, but now he watched for a different reason. He was on the look out for clues on how to adapt her dance steps to the ancient practice of his very own tribal martial art. There were a lot of similarities. The intricate step work - the balance, control and training of the limbs to make them supple enough for involved movements - these were a good basis for any form of martial art, no matter the technique. The body conditioning her dancing had given her from a very young age, would more than make up for his negligence and it would give her the opportunity to pick up his new teachings faster.

He chewed on the end of his pen. Over the last week he had made many notes, forming a rough outline on how to change her movement for power instead of poise. It was going to be hard; there was no question about that, but there was a significant likeness between the two. The only trouble was that Bra's body had been trained to move in a very specific way, and to a certain extent the similarities of dance were going to hinder, rather than help her in the beginning. It was too upright, too showy for martial arts, but these fundamentals could be changed, if Bra was willing to forgo her previous training and accept his instead.

Flipping the notepad closed and pushing the pen securely into the binding at the top, Vegeta hopped down from the branch and onto the cushioned lawn, ready to eat the family dinner he had first smelled wafting his way ten minutes ago. That he had delayed for so long was testimony to the importance he put on his daughters training, and he was deadly serious. That being said, however, Vegeta knew he would scrap it all in a moment if Bra said that she had changed her mind and didn't want to learn. He would be disappointed, there was no question about that, but he would control that disappointment and move on.

Bulma accosted him the moment he entered the kitchen. "You're late."

"I had a few things to take care of," he replied, tucking the notepad into his back pocket and then sliding a chair out so he could sit at the table.

"Well, it doesn't matter that much. Trunks isn't back from the office yet and Bra… I have no idea where Bra is. Have you seen her?"

"She's dance training."

He picked up a pitcher of water and poured himself a glass.

"Were you spying on her again?" Bulma asked, placing his dinner on the table and letting him see her sly grin.

"I wasn't spying," he said. "I was merely taking notes, that is all."

"You're really excited at the prospect of teaching her, aren't you?"

"Perhaps," he admitted, catching her wrist before she could move away. "Are you concerned about that?"

He guided her into the chair next to him and to the food he had disturbed her from on his arrival. "A little," she admitted. "I remember how it was with Tru…."

"I see." His eyes slid to hers, thinning as he concentrated. "I'm not going to lie to you, Bulma. The training will be very hard for her, physically as well as mentally, but it will not, in any way shape or form, be brutal. The boy's training, I admit, was a little heavy handed, but we both know that this was necessary. I trained Trunks not just as a martial artist but also as a warrior - a future protector for your planet. I have refused to teach Bra this way in the past and I will continue to do so. The training I will give her is very different. You have my word on that."

"I'm not sure I understand the distinction you've made," she said, picking up a fork and digging into her food. "Isn't being a marital artist the same thing as being a warrior? You're still going to teach her to fight."

"Yes – but it's all in _how_ I teach her. With Trunks it was all about power. I taught him to fight without emotion, and without holding back. Bra doesn't possess enough latent ki energy to make this type of training worthwhile. My fighting style - it has changed considerably over the years and the martial art I originally studied has become polluted. You know better than most how desperate I have been for power and how obsessed I have been with gaining it – perhaps still am."

She nodded.

"To attain the power I have now, I have had to merge a lot of individual and obscure styles together. Teaching Bra all of what I know will neither be desirable or necessary. She will learn martial arts not just to fight, but to appreciate the skill, dedication, and history involved. Her lessons will be directed towards the ability of martial arts - to keep her body healthy and as a means for protecting herself should she need to - no more than that."

Bulma seemed satisfied with what he said, and her cheeks were flushed with an emotion he couldn't place. "So what is this unpolluted style?" she asked.

"Hyori."

"Heyorai?" She scrunched her face trying to mimic the foreign word. "I'm guessing its Saiyan. What does it mean?"

He shifted slightly on his chair, drawing out the suspense as he took a long sip on his drink. It was intriguing to him how hearing something so little and relatively meaningless to Bulma, could captivate her attention so entirely.

"Loosely translated it means 'King to the land' although there are several other connotations."

Bulma had started eating, but as the translation left his lips, she stopped.

"What?" he muttered, suspiciously.

She carefully positioned her fork along her plate and let out a long sigh. "Its just that I don't hear you speak like this very often – especially not when it involves translating for me. Oh I hear you swearing at me in Saiyan the whole time. I mean if I were ever to meet another Saiyan besides you and Son-kun, I'd be able to call him an idiot in about fifty different ways so he understood, but something like this. It's a treat. If you don't mind, I'm just going to sit here and let the moment sink in."

He chuckled into his food. "Then you don't want to hear any more?"

He wasn't sure whether to be highly amused or extremely angry when a small manicured hand darted between him and his food. She glared at him in a way that didn't brook opposition. "If there's more then I'm going to hear it, mister, and right now! No distractions."

"Why is it so important to you?" he asked.

She smiled. "Because it's a part of your life that you don't let anyone know about. I know this might come as a shock to you, but I don't keep lying when I say that I love you. It's a perfectly natural reaction for me to be interested in your past, and wanting to grab hold of any titbit of information you give me when the chance arises, is all a part of that."

Catching her gaze, he drew his mouth into a thin hard line. "I tell you nothing because, a lot of the time, you are better for not knowing."

"I know," she said. "You want to protect me, and I appreciate that, but this is about before Frieza, right - about your home planet? I really want you to tell me more."

He still didn't understand, but relented nonetheless. It would do more harm were he to ignore her plea.

"Hyori is the name of the tribe from which the royal house of Vegeta is descended. It gave its name to a style of martial art I trained in before I entered Frieza's army - under the guidance of my father and various other tutors. Bra, if she is still interested in learning, will receive the benefits and basic principles of this style."

It looked to Vegeta as though Bulma was about to push further, but Trunks entered the room and stopped their conversation short.

"Something smells good!" he said, laying his jacket and keys on the breakfast bar. "Did you cook mum?"

She laughed. "As if! Thank the housebots, not me."

"I'll be sure to do that. By the way, I fell over something pink and sparkly in the hall. She's washing her hands."

He pulled out a chair and started to pile his plate. Bulma sighed lightly, obviously frustrated that she couldn't have more time alone with Vegeta. She didn't show this to Trunks, however, and was soon quizzing him on his first full afternoon in charge of Capsule Corporation. They talked incessantly and Vegeta soon got bored of even feigning to show interest.

He only became aware again when his daughter skipped happily into the room; still in the pink tutu Bulma's mother had designed for her. She sat down the other side of Vegeta and dug into her food with the gusto and speed that only Saiyan blood could create.

"Make sure you eat as much as you can, Bra," Vegeta said, pushing another bowl of rice his daughter's way. "You will need the extra nutrition."

"Why Daddy?"

"Because once you have finished you will have your very first martial arts lesson." He looked pointedly at her. "If you still wish to learn that is."

Her eyes grew wide and sparkled with excitement. "Yay! This is going to be so cool. Do you mean it? I get to train with you and Trunks?"

"Not with Trunks, but with me, yes."

Trunks laughed and patted her affectionately on the head. "It was nice knowing you kid."

The sarcasm was lost on Bra. She was too excited and Vegeta found it amusing that she wolfed down the bowl of rice, and asked if he was ready before she had even swallowed.

"Maybe you should wait for your food to go down first," Bulma laughed as the maidbots collected dishes around them.

Bra pulled a bizarre face and swallowed it all in one giant gulp. She then proceeded to open her mouth wide so everyone could see there was no trace left. "All gone!" she stated, just in case anyone was still in any doubt. "Now can we train?"

Vegeta chuckled and felt his anticipation grow as he nodded. He'd finished several minutes ago and had only stayed because of Bra.

"Can I wear this?" she asked, fluffing the skirt on her tutu.

"It's unorthodox, but it will do."

He only stood long enough to let Bra know she was to follow him, before marching out of the room. She walked eagerly behind, no longer skipping as she had earlier, but in a steady long stride that mimicked his own. "We will use the dance room for now," he said, turning down the curved corridor that would take them there. "The Gravity Room has no mirrors, and when you are learning, it is essential that you can see how your body moves."

"Just like ballet?"

"I wouldn't know."

It was a lie of course, but Bra didn't need to know about his 'spying' as Bulma called it.

He fiddled with the catch on the door, opened it and held it for Bra. She walked under his arm and as in their earlier lessons, headed straight for the rug. He joined her, but instead of kneeling he crossed his legs and told her to do the same. "You will need feeling in your legs for this and I have a fair bit to tell you, so for both our comfort it is better to just sit," he explained.

"Won't I need to be standing, so you can show me how to kick peoples arses?" she asked, clasping her hands together and looking the picture of innocence.

Vegeta controlled his amusement. It was as if she knew just what to say to alight his imagination and make him forget the control he so badly wanted to instil for her in its place.

"Is that what you think you will be learning?" he asked, curious as to her reply. "How to kick peoples arses?"

"Of course. I want to fight and you said you'd teach me."

"And I will, but you will not be learning to fight like Trunks. Your ki just isn't strong enough. What you will be learning is how to fight in a controlled manner, as I once learned as a child."

"But Daddy! I wanna learn like Trunks," she whined.

"Is that a fact?" He eyed Bra with a wry grin and a passive, deflecting gaze. "Well I had planned on telling you things that not even Trunks knows, but if you want to be his punching bag then I guess I can change my tactics."

Her face was alive, and Vegeta congratulated himself on the guise. He had heard people say that parenting was hard. Feh! It was all nonsense. All you really needed to know was how to push buttons and, in truth, Vegeta was more than equal to it.

Bra's big blue eyes watered under a malicious grin. "You mean…" She lowered her voice and looked suspiciously around the room. "Secrets?"

"Yes." He replied, enigmatically lowering his voice as well. "Secrets that only you and I will know. I am the only one alive who has trained in the true, elite martial art of Vegeta-sei, and soon, you will know it too."

She squealed in delight, throwing her small arms around his broad chest. He suffered it for a moment before pulling her off and to a respectful distance. Such contact was still too alien to be suffered for long, even in private. It took effort but he managed to harden his gaze long enough to sober her exuberance.

"So now you want to learn?"

"Yes, a whole heap! I want to learn daddy's secrets."

"Very well, but a secret is a secret Bra. I will only teach you if you promise me not to tell anyone what goes on in these lessons. Do you agree to this?"

She nodded. It was firm and spoke absolute sincerity. "Mummy says that a secret isn't special anymore if everyone knows."

Vegeta, despite appearances, was highly amused by this. He wondered just how long that pearl of wisdom would last from his mate when she realized that Bra was keeping quiet about these special classes. If their conversation earlier was any indication then he didn't give her five minutes.

"Then listen to your mother's advice, for now, and know that I will stop training you immediately if I find out you've blabbed," he threatened.

"Then we'll pinky promise!" she agreed holding out her little finger. "That way it can never be broken."

Vegeta looked at the outstretched finger with mild disgust. "That won't be necessary. Your word will be fine."

Bra pouted and then relented with a sigh. "Okay."

Convinced that he had his daughters unwavering attention Vegeta began the narrative he had been preparing for days prior.

"The style of Martial arts you are going to learn is called Hyori. It is a tribal, or family, martial art that was first devised three hundred years ago on my home planet – Vegeta-sei. That being said, however, it has its origins much further back - as far as Saiyan history is recorded. That's over two thousand years. As it stands now this ancient art will be forgotten when I am no longer around, and I do not wish for that to happen. That is why I am going to teach you it in its purest form, so my heritage will live on. This is a lot of responsibility, Bra, and I am entrusting it to you."

He stood and walked a little distance away.

"If you are serious about learning then I will demand nothing less than one hundred percent commitment. I have no desire to waste my time. You will learn as I instruct and I have no doubt that if you listen to me carefully, then you will excel and become a great master one day."

"I do want to learn - about fighting and your old home daddy. Tell me more about it."

He nodded. "I will, but only in reference to your training. You do not need to know any more."

He doubted Bra would understand the majority of what he was about to say, but that didn't matter. He would build on what limited amount she did, over the months and years to come. These beginning lessons were all about setting the foundations and forming her into a skilled and patient pupil. He cleared his throat, ready to begin.

"I will start with the main history and we'll take it from there," he stated. "In ancient Saiyan times there were hundreds of tribes all over Vegeta-sei. These consisted of two main factions. The Saiyans and the Tsuffles. The Saiyans lived in the east and the Tsuffles in the west. The difference between the two weren't huge, but enough to make deep segregations across the planet. The Tsuffles were a lot like the Earthlings are now; adept, intelligent and a generally peaceful race. They didn't like to fight, and only did so when it was absolutely necessary. That is not to say that they were overly weak. Back then they were far more advanced in mind than the Saiyans were. They preferred to rely on technology and created great weapons that not even the Saiyan physique was immune to."

"In close combat the Saiyans always had the advantage, but to get into such close quarters in the first place was incredibly hard. In general terms the Saiyans were content fighting amongst themselves rather than trying to infringe on Tsuffle territory. As a result, hundreds of differing Saiyan martial art styles were formed, each for the use of an individual tribe - Hyori was one of them."

He looked over his shoulder at Bra, just to make sure she was paying attention. He needn't have worried. She looked completely engrossed - cross-legged and gaping, as though she were listening to a good bedtime story.

"Things were a lot different then to when I was brought up. At this time it was the Tsuffles that had greater control. They had the great cities and the wealth that came with power and technology. They had just started to dabble in space travel and were beginning to enjoy the benefits that went with it. Compared to the Tsuffles, the Saiyans lived very simply. They didn't have cities, just small towns and villages where they lived off the land. To them, learning martial arts wasn't just an idle pastime - it was a means of survival. All the principle members of the tribe learned how to fight and how to hunt. It was essential to learn, and the difference between life and death if you didn't learn well enough. There were no laws for our ancestors, each tribe had to fend for themselves, and even within these there was a lot of fighting. The majority of the time it was territorial – over food, females or even contests of leadership, but it was also used for fun. As a sport and a means of entertainment. Indeed, there are several forms that were originally designed specifically for women, but which, when I was young, were taught to all, even the men."

Vegeta readjusted his stance and held out an arm, silently beckoning his daughter over. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see?" he said, when she stood next to him.

"Are you being silly daddy?"

He scowled. "Daddy doesn't do silly."

She looked confused. "I just see you and me."

"Do you want to know what I see?" he asked.

Bra giggled. "I bet you see the same."

"Yes and no. What I see is royalty – a prince and his daughter. Did you know that my father was a king and once ruled over the entire planet of Vegeta-sei?"

"You said I would have been a princess if we had been on your planet and not mummy's." She sniggered. "Would I have had maids and people to boss about?"

"More than likely," he agreed. "I did when I was a child."

"I think I would have liked that, but was your daddy a Tsuffle?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you think that?"

"You said the Tsuffles were in charge. Your daddy must have been one to be king."

"The Tsuffles were in charge, but that was a very long time ago. When I was born there were no longer any Tsuffles."

"Did they go off in spaceships and leave the Saiyans behind?"

Vegeta thought for a moment. Did he tell her the truth, or did he deflect her question? What would it do to a seven year old to know that her father's race had, with the help of a rare full moon, totally destroyed the Tsuffles – men, women and children alike – taken over their cities and stolen their technology? It would probably do more harm than good right now and he had made a promise to Bulma that he would only teach her what was relevant to her training.

"No," he replied. "It was a little more complicated than that, but this is in no way relevant to what you are about to learn. Perhaps, when you are older and when you can understand better, I will tell you more. For now I will only say that a certain event changed the course of history and due to a distinction in my tribe, the Saiyans rose from obscurity and first made their mark on the universe as a proud and powerful warrior race. Under our ancestor's rule Vegeta-sei became a very different place. All the differing tribes fell under one rule and a very diverse and rich empire was formed. Each style of martial art was still taught and practiced diligently, but Hyori evolved and became the martial art used by both the palace and the elite guard."

Vegeta guided Bra to stand in front of the main wall of mirrors. "I have no doubt that all of these different styles were, in part at least, combined to the royal martial art over the years. No style remains totally pure for that long, but what I can say for certain, is that it is completely Saiyan. Up until my birth, other planetary martial arts had not been allowed to influence the style. It was a closely guarded secret when suspicion and double dealings in the universe were rife."

He held out Bra's arms, and wrapped his own hand around the upper part so that the forefinger and thumb touched. "Your body may be small and relatively weak, but that does not matter. Hyori is adaptable for anyone to learn, old, young, short, tall, weak or strong. It has no prejudices. It is up to the teacher himself who learns it. Trunks knows a little, it is true, but he does not know anything close to the amount you will learn, if you apply yourself well." He looked at her through the mirror, his black eyes holding hers. "Do you understand?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I think so."

"Good," he stated. "Then we will begin with the very basics for now and see how you get on."

He moved her back a little and positioned himself between Bra and the mirror. "We will start with the basic kicks. Your dancing has made you supple, and seeing as you have been doing it before dinner then we will, for this once, forgo a warm up. There are several basic kicks for you to learn and we will start with a front snap kick."

Making sure there was plenty of room he demonstrated this for her. "You are right handed and therefore probably right rooted as well, so we'll start on this side. You need to put your left leg forward and kick with your back leg. Put your hands up by your face and in fists, while keeping your elbows tucked in. This will help balance the kick and train your body for defence as well as attack."

"Like this?" she asked, copying his stance flawlessly.

"Just like that," he agreed. "For a front snap kick you need to bring your right knee forward, balancing on your left leg. The power comes from the snap you make with the lower half of your leg when you fully extend it. Like this," Vegeta demonstrated.

Bra tried to copy him.

"Close," he encouraged when she was done. "But this isn't ballet. You need to pull your toes back and kick with the ball of your foot otherwise you will break them. Also - keep your left foot flat on the floor. If you go onto tiptoes you will become off balance. The height of the kick doesn't matter. If you feel your back foot coming up then lower the kick. If you don't do this, at best your kick will lack power and at worst you'll fall flat on your arse and become completely vulnerable to a counterattack."

It took a fair bit of coaching before Bra got the right technique. Vegeta's suspicions were proven correct. Her dance training was hindering her. She had been trained to point her toes and to make her movement look elegant. When done correctly there was indeed a certain amount of grace involved in martial arts, but that came later, when balance and power had been established. For now he had to concentrate on constant corrections and retraining her body to work with, rather than against the dynamics of kicking.

Over the next half hour he took her through the rest of the basic kicks. Crescent, axe, straight leg, roundhouse, side, and hook kicks had all been gone through and with encouraging results. He'd decided to take the kicking as a first approach because it was more in keeping to what she was used to, and to be fair, once the initial stumbling blocks had been gone over Bra did very well. Her body was very much equal to replicating his movements and for now that was good enough. Power would come with time and practice. There was only one more kick for her to learn and even though, theoretically it wasn't as basic as the others, he had no qualms about teaching her. Their earlier dealings would help a great deal and so once she had finished doing her five set of hook kicks on each leg, he decided to introduce it.

"That is good enough, child," he said, as she wobbled slightly. "But it is getting close to your bedtime. There is one more kick left and if you manage to get it right then I will start teaching you some hand strikes tomorrow."

"This is so much fun, Daddy!" she enthused, looking at her legs as though she was seeing them for the first time.

"I have spent the last few minutes telling you not to use your dance, but now I'm going to scrap that. Those moves," he said, twisting his finger in circles because he didn't know the precise term. "The ones when you spin around several times."

"The pirouettes?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Show me."

Bra did as he asked. With the addition of a little dip of the legs at the beginning she went up onto the end of her toes and spun around three or four times.

"Yes. That is it," he agreed. "Do you always do multiple together or can you do it just once?"

"My best is seven in a row, doing one is just too easy!"

He smirked and dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I have no doubt about that, Bra, but humour me and do it just once anyway."

Unable to refuse, Bra did as she was told. "There!"

"And again," he insisted, but as she turned her feet to begin he stopped her. "Do you always begin like that, turning to face the opposite direction and then going onto tiptoes?"

She nodded. "Mrs. Daliaeu says that we need to."

"And do you likewise look over your shoulder to see the front?"

"Yes. You get _really_ dizzy otherwise."

"So it's just the balance that needs working on then."

"Mrs Daliaeu says I have very good balance!" she huffed, indignantly.

"Perhaps you do." His brow creased. "This dance spin - it is almost identical to how a fighter moves when doing a spin kick. It's all in the toes again though." He stood on one leg, perfectly balanced, and moved his toes backwards and forwards. "I cannot see how you stay so centred on them. It must be the speed that keeps you upright more than anything else. I have no doubt that you could perform such a kick very easily with this method, were you to kick air all day, but," he looked up to Bra with a smirk. "If you had something to kick… I think it would explain what I am trying to say better."

He stood staunchly in front of his daughter. "Try it."

"Try what?"

"I want you to do that, pirouette thing again, only this time extend your leg, pull your toes back and kick with the heal. I want to demonstrate how, even though your dance training relies heavily on balance and control, that it really has to be changed to be useful in martial arts. Kick me."

"Don't be silly Daddy. I'll hurt you."

He chuckled. "Believe me, Bra, it takes a lot for me to get hurt. I'm merely going to demonstrate a point. Your mother has a phrase that I think fits – it goes something along the lines of - seeing is believing. Here," he said pointing to his knee. "This is where I want you to aim for."

"And you're sure I won't hurt you?"

"Positive," he confirmed.

She smiled and practically jumped into stance. "Okay then," she shouted, sounding incredibly grown up. "You're going down, Daddy!"

Vegeta groaned and made a mental note to stop her watching 'Mr Satan's Wrestling Superstars' with Trunks on a Saturday morning.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, and with no messing about she spun into the kick.

Vegeta was pleased with what he saw. She looked over her shoulder before raising her leg. The technique might have been instilled through dancing, but seeing where you were kicking, in martial arts, was almost as important as the kick itself. It was only after this that things went awry. Her kicking leg spun in the right way with the toes back, heal out and perfectly parallel to the floor, but there was the problem. She rose on her back foot too high, almost balancing on the very ends of her toes. The moment she kicked him her standing leg buckled. She hopped a little before falling heavily onto the hard wooden floorboards with a sickening crack.

Tears started to well in her eyes as Vegeta shrugged his shoulders in a way that didn't speak sympathy - only derision. "I can tell you need no need practice on balance at all, Bra," he sniffed sarcastically.

"Don't be mean, Daddy!" she screamed, rubbing her sore bottom. "Your body feels like a rock."

"That's because I am a highly trained martial artist, but I am not powered up now, I have no ki to aid me. I admit that even if you had kicked me correctly you would not have moved me, but that isn't the reason you fell. Power comes with balance. Had you kicked me with balance you would have managed to stay on your feet even if the kick wasn't powerful enough to move me."

"What did I do wrong?" she asked, hands on her hips and a little bit of wounded pride in her voice.

"Your standing foot was unbalanced."

Bra smacked the floor in frustration. "But Mrs. Daliaeu says I will fall over if I spin on my heal."

"And she's right," he agreed. "I will show you how to spin properly."

Bra eyed him warily for a moment, as though she were thinking about refusing. There was a battle raging somewhere in her young head. Vegeta knew that look. It was pride versus desire. She wanted to learn, but she had pride in her already established ability. This was a pivotal moment. Would she sacrifice her pride to learn his way, or was she going to disobey him and make his notes redundant?

To Vegeta's relief she nodded, but not before fluffing her hair and making a, "hmpppph" noise to make him know that she wasn't happy about it.

"Give me your foot," he instructed, knowing it was best to ignore her temper. Pandering to her mood swings would only make them more violent. That he knew from experience.

With a sigh, Bra did as she was told.

The anger melted the moment he touched her foot. She giggled and squirmed in his hold. "That tickles!" she screeched.

"You mean this?" he asked, experimentally doing the same movement again.

She shrieked and giggled again and there was something in the sound that made Vegeta take an interest. So this was what playing with children, interacting with them, was all about? Interesting. He might have to incorporate more of that into his future lessons, especially if it could be used to drastically change the mood of a situation. Every aid for effective discipline had to be explored, and this unexpected phenomenon definitely had potential.

"Daddy! Please stop!"

He did. It was hard for him to refuse Bra anything. "Okay," he agreed. "I will point instead of touching." He drew an invisible line around the ball of her foot. "This is where you need to be spinning," he said. "If you spin on the heal then you have nothing to control your rotation. On your toes you have control of the rotation, but not enough balance to withstand kicking an object. If you spin on the ball of the foot, you have the toes free to grip the floor with. They will give you greater balance, and should you over-rotate then your can put your heal down to stop you. Do you understand better now?"

Bra looked sheepishly up to him and nodded. "I'm sorry," she said, hanging her head a little. "I just got angry."

"I know. Do you get that way a lot?"

"Maybe," she said looking away and playing with a strand of her hair. "I do things when I get angry - things that my friends can't. It's weird. Am I strange?"

Vegeta shook his head. "You're not strange. You're part Saiyan. It is something to be proud of Bra and learning Hyori will teach you that."

He looked down at his daughter, concern etched into his features. He had felt regret at not teaching her before, but now he could see how much she had missed out by such a refusal. She looked human, was brought up as a human, and had deep emotional vulnerability as all humans seemed to, but she wasn't human – not entirely. He should not have tried to protect her for so long. It was wrong.

He sighed and shook his head. At least now he had a means to explain why she was different, why she could do things other children couldn't, and even though tonight's lesson was pretty much over, Vegeta couldn't help but feel great anticipation for what was to come.


	3. Chapter 3

Dancing

Part Three

Disclaimer: This is a product of my overactive imagination and my all-powerful obsession with DBZ. It doesn't make DBZ mine.

Five years had passed since Vegeta first started training his daughter in the ancient martial art of Hyori. During that time he had become more and more astounded with the capabilities and passion Bra held for his teachings. Indeed, she was fulfilling all his expectations and more. At the age of twelve she was far beyond what many humans would accomplish in a whole lifetime of training. He was, however, becoming increasingly worried about the amount of time and dedication she would be able to give to it in the up-coming months and years ahead.

A lot had changed domestically since he had first started taking her under his wing, as he now felt, was his right to do so. A year ago Trunks had assumed complete responsibility of Capsule Corporation, Bulma was now in semi-retirement, and Bra herself was entering a stage of her education that was vital for her future success. His daughter was, he freely admitted, just as gifted as his son, and would probably excel in anything she put her mind to. This was given some weight by the advances she was making in her schoolwork. She might well be on the fringes of her teenage years, but she was already studying with children three years her senior.

Bulma had informed him a few weeks back that Bra's high school exams were, in fact, only a year down the road, and afterwards she would be looking at college. He couldn't believe it. College at thirteen! He knew it wasn't unprecedented. Bulma had been a child prodigy as well and had walked the same course as their daughter several decades prior, but it was becoming increasingly clear to him that Bra's commitments to outside activities would be affected by the step up. She was still dancing, and a month ago had opened as the star performer at the Royal theatre in Western Capitol City. She had already cut her lessons with him down to a manageable three days a week, and he could only see more cuts to come.

With Trunks' new work status overtaking his training, Vegeta had put more and more attention on Bra, asking more from her than she was probably capable of. She never said anything to discourage him, but however much he didn't want to face the reality, it could not blind him to her general fatigue. She always looked tired, and her technique and accuracy were suffering as a result. He was on the verge of bringing the subject to the fore, even though he wanted nothing more than to carry on teaching her. He'd thought about it constantly for the last two weeks, and even though there had been ample time and opportunity to bring it up within that time, he had never quite managed to find the will inside himself to complete the task. Besides, there was always something more pressing to be dealt with regarding his daughter recently. Much to his chagrin, something was bothering his daughter, and he hadn't been the one to spot it – Bulma had. To his proud and fatherly eyes this was new corroboration that his daughter was starting to grow up and away from him.

Confrontation of another nature was upon them, however, and this time it would be harder to combat than previous times. This time their daughter was sharper, older, and – thanks to her training – ten times more adept at escaping from them both physically and mentally. Cold hard questions would be denied, babying the subject would be condemned, and skirting it would be evaded altogether. No. There was only one way to get to the bottom of this little conundrum, and Vegeta was actually looking forward to the latest mission his wife had concocted. It was getting harder, but nothing would be kept from them. When they worked as a team they were, quite frankly, unstoppable.

He casually strolled into the kitchen at the precise minute Bulma had arranged the previous night. He didn't linger outside until it was time – that would give the game away – but they had simply calculated the moment to fit in with his normal strict morning routine. Bulma had timed her questions to the second, and so having come straight from the shower, still drying his hair, and in nothing but his pyjama trousers he walked anonymously to the cupboards to select his cereal, just as he did every morning.

It was imperative that he didn't appear to be listening to the conversation, because he never normally let himself get involved in these discussions if he could avoid it. As he leaned against the worktops, shovelling down his breakfast, and watching the news on the kitchen television, no one, not even those closest to him, would have suspected that the only thing he was concentrating on were his wife and daughter.

"So how are you finding your new class?" Bulma asked, so casually that Vegeta would have had a hard time realizing it was rehearsed. That was, of course, if his wife hadn't kept him up all night by reciting what she was going to say over and over again.

"S'okay."

"I know it's not the same as the last school, but private education isn't always what it's cracked up to be. Believe me, you want to be around people who actually know what it's like to live a little."

Bra sighed, something she didn't do very often. "If you say so."

"Did Mr. Pick settle you in okay? He seemed like a nice man at the interview, but a little easily distracted. I'll need to speak to the head about that."

"It was fine," Bra muttered around her toast. "What's with all the questions?"

So far so good!

Vegeta shifted positions and laid his bowl on the surface. Bra had been honest so far. There were no fluctuations in her heart rate, no hint of a lie on her tongue, and no physical response that would cause alarm.

"I just want to make sure you're settling in okay."

"Well, there's no need to worry, Mum. Everything's fine - everyone's been very friendly."

Vegeta's lips pursed together a fraction of a moment, before he cleared the emotion. Now they were getting somewhere! That was a definite lie. Her pulse had increased, and her body temperature risen a couple of degrees.

"So have you made any new friends yet?"

"Not really. I'm still the new girl. A couple of people have spoken to me, but they're all older than me, so I guess it's going to take a while for them to get used to having me in their class."

He relaxed once again. Not only had she been eloquent in her reply, but truthful as well. He wondered why she felt compelled to lie before. The news finished, and he moved on to the next phase of his morning routine, a slight smile adorning his usually blank features. Family problems or no, this was always his favourite part of the day. He opened the fridge door and perused the contents. "Woman!" he snapped, just as his wife was about to speak again.

"Whatever it is Vegeta," she dismissed, "it can wait. I'm talking to Bra!"

"Does this look like a face of concern? Where's the damn orange juice?"

"I don't know and could care even less. Now, Bra---"

"Woman," he snapped again, trying to look angry when really he was laughing inside. This was a routine they needed no rehearsal for. It was akin to foreplay and had been practiced on a daily basis for longer than either would probably care to admit. "I will not have you ignore me!"

Bulma spun angrily on her chair, got up and stalked over to him. "For the love of god, Vegeta! How many times do I have to tell you, if you want cold orange in the morning, then take your cute little arse over to the pantry and get a fresh carton out before you go to bed. It's not my purpose on this earth to pander to your every little whim!"

Vegeta almost laughed out loud. 'Cute little arse?' She really was going for broke wasn't she? "No part," he iterated," and I mean absolutely no part of me is 'cute' Bulma. Now get me the damn juice!"

"No!"

"Now!"

"I said 'no!'"

"Um, Mum – Dad? Maybe it would be best if I left."

"Stay where you are," Bulma snapped. "I haven't finished talking to you yet."

"And I said 'now!'" Vegeta bellowed, ignoring the interruption.

"Really," Bra stuttered. "I'll just---"

"Sit!" they shouted in unison.

Bra – Vegeta was pleased to see – did exactly as she was told. Bulma must have guessed this, and the argument was almost instantly put to rest. She brushed passed him and on towards the open fridge. Once there she rolled her eyes and let out a string of profanities.

"What?" he demanded.

She stepped around, a nearly full jug of orange juice in her hands, and shoved it angrily into his chest. She snorted. "How is it that you can see an enemy a mile away without even turning around and yet you can't see a jug of juice just because it's behind a few vegetables? Smooth, Vegeta, way to impress! Anything else you want me to do? Brush your teeth? Hold you while you go…?"

"Drop dead?" he offered.

"Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta…." She winked. "If I did that who would be here to make your life a daily living hell?" She half lidded her eyes and spoke huskily. "And don't even pretend that you don't want that."

Even though he knew Bulma was turning up the performance for their daughter's benefit, Vegeta shivered as she ran a tongue along her bottom lip. She might well be in her fifties now, but dammit if she wasn't still the same little sexy woman he'd been hopeless against for the last twenty-five years. Later – later she would pay for it.

Outwardly he merely slumped against the worktop and slowly downed the entire jug, all the while being careful to look as pissed off, and menacing as he would do under normal circumstances. Bulma also sat down, turning her back haughtily on him, and resumed her conversation with Bra.

"Sorry about that," she apologized.

Bra shrugged. "Dad will be Dad."

"Anyway," Bulma continued. "We were talking about your new class."

Bra shifted uncomfortably and checked her watch. "Mum, I'm going to be late. Can't this wait?"

"Okay, just one more question, then I'm done." Vegeta opened the dishwasher and put his jug in. This was the one, the key to solving the riddle. "Are you happy there? Do you feel comfortable with all the older kids?"

"Yes," she answered curtly. "Can I go now?"

Bulma sighed, the ruse completed. "Fine – just know that you can tell me anything. If you ever feel like you're not fitting in, then all you have to do is say the word and we'll find a different way for you to finish high school."

"Will do," she answered, picking up her backpack and practically running to the door.

"Have a nice day," Bulma called after her, but Bra was long gone. Keeping up the act for a little longer Bulma sat at the table, only moving when she heard the front door slam shut. Then she turned to Vegeta. With one curt nod he signalled to her that Bra's energy signature was far enough away for them to talk without fear of being overheard.

Picking up her breakfast bowl and placing it in the dishwasher next to Vegeta, Bulma locked her blue eyes on him. "Well?" she asked.

"She lied three times," he said simply. "Not everyone has been friendly to her, she doesn't feel comfortable in her new class, and for some reason she's not prepared to tell you about it."

Bulma's shoulders sagged. "Then I was right."

He frowned. "So it appears. The question is - what are you going to do about it?"

She smiled, an unnerving gesture when completed with a wicked glint and a smile. "You mean what are _we_ going to do about it."

He growled low in the throat. "Oh no, Woman! I have done my part. You're on your own."

"Vegeta!" She scowled. "We had a deal, remember. Follow her."

"I can't do that, Bulma, she will sense me a mile off."

"Oh please!" she snapped. "Don't give me that bullshit. I know you better than anyone, if you want to stay hidden, you will find a way to do it. How many times have you sneaked off to Son-Kun's to secretly watch him train? Now don't tell me that Bra can sense energy as well as Goku can, 'cause I know differently."

Bulma was right of course. If he wanted to follow Bra anonymously then he would have no problem in doing so. He just wasn't sure he wanted to. He knew, without anyone telling him, that he was bad at the day-to-day trivialities of fatherhood. It wasn't so much that it was beneath his notice, more that he didn't feel comfortable in the role, and was eminently bad at fitting his emotions to the situation. He was worried, worried that whatever was causing Bra to lie to her mother, would be a situation that would anger him. He had a hard enough time controlling himself around his own family, let alone with a third party.

"I know you are right, Bulma, but I can't…."

"Can't what?"

"I can't promise you that I can control my temper should there be extenuating circumstances."

She lifted a hand to his face and affectionately rubbed his cheek with her thumb. "I know, Vegeta, but there's no other way. You're the only one capable of watching her without being noticed."

"Trunks?" he offered.

"No," she replied firmly. "Trunks isn't anymore detached than you are, and younger as well. Besides it isn't his place. As her parents, it's our responsibility."

"Fine!" he snapped, having heard enough. She was making excuses. For some reason she wanted him to go and no one else. He just wished he knew why. "I will do as you ask. I just hope we don't both have cause to regret it."

An hour and a change of clothes later and Vegeta was flying over West Capitol, scouting the area and finding the best possible place to mount his attack, so to speak. Her school was less than three blocks from the Capsule Corporations new offices on the east side, where Trunks was currently hard at work. He had chosen his flight path carefully. If he went flying idly over the city he knew Bra would sense him and become suspicious, but he occasionally took time out from his daily routine to check up on his son and make sure he wasn't trying to skive off work. He figured that if he followed the same course as usual he would be able to get an aerial assessment of the school grounds and layout before masking his ki and setting up a base on foot. In effect, it would kill two birds with one stone. He could make sure Trunks was performing his duties as he ought and do as his wife had asked him all in one fell swoop.

He touched down outside the offices just in time to see his son look nervously out of the window, having probably already sensed his ki. He saluted up, and Trunks' face went a shade lighter, before turning back into the office and away from his view. Then, as calmly as he could he let his ki evaporate into nothing. With one more glance back up to the window to make sure he was safe he turned heel and walked quickly and purposefully to the building he had handpicked. It was in the perfect position to overlook the school grounds. Bulma had informed him before he left that this was the prime target. If there were problems then she had said that this would probably be the place they manifested, when the children were free to roam as they wanted, with fewer teachers present and more space to escape notice.

Reaching the building he was pleased to see the fire escape at the side, which would allow him access to the roof without raising suspicion. It was scaled quickly and silently.

Two hours later and Vegeta was getting impatient. He had seen no sign of Bra, and he was on the verge of leaving when he heard a bell ring in the distance and saw a long train of pupils streaming outside, each forming little pockets of friendship and eating their lunches at various positions around the vast grounds.

Much to Vegeta's continued annoyance at the situation, Bra was one of the last ones out. He picked up on her position almost instantly and was slightly surprised to see that rather than breaking off into one of the other groups, she made her lonely way to the base of a tree at the furthest proximity to her fellow classmates. She set her lunch on her lap and stated eating, but there was something wrong. She didn't look comfortable, constantly looking up as though she were expecting something to jump out at her.

He quickly realized why. There was a group advancing on her. At first he thought they were her new friends, trying to get to know her better, but when he honed his senses on them to listen in, he was surprised at what he heard.

One of the girls had thrown an arm around her in what appeared a friendly gesture, but her words conveyed a very different meaning. "Well, hello there, newbie!" she crooned. "What ya doing all the way over here on your own?"

"Eating." Vegeta was instantly concerned. Was this the same confident child he saw at home? She was nervous, shaking, and completely scared by the presence of this older girl.

"Not any more," the girl giggled, and proceeded to tip the entire contents of Bra's lunchbox over the grass.

Bra seemed to protest and tried to salvage her lunch, only for one of the other members of the group to break away and squash the sandwiches and crisps into the ground.

"But…"

"What's the matter 'underwear girl'? Little rich kid gonna miss her lunch? Poor diddums!"

"Hey there, Heather," another girl added. "Mummy will fix everything for her – after all, she's nothing more than a baby, aren't you, Knickers?"

"My name," she mumbled, "is Bra."

"Like we care!" Heather snorted. "What did you bring us?"

Bra's eyes were suddenly wide with panic. "I couldn't get away this morning. Mum was questioning me, and Dad was there too, I couldn't…."

The friendly smile and gesture on Heather's face was instantly lost. "We had a deal, kid. If you got us what we wanted, then we'd keep your little secret to ourselves."

Vegeta's face felt like it was going to shatter under the strain of restraining his anger. Blackmail. This little bitch was blackmailing HIS daughter! If he had it his way then heads were going to roll! The million-zeni question was _why_? What was this 'secret' the girl was referring to? It was the only thing that was keeping him from rushing out and giving the little witch a lesson she would never forget.

"No! Please! Anything but that… I'll get it for you tomorrow I promise."

"And the other part of our deal?"

Bra sighed and looked incredibly nervous, but she reached inside her pocket anyway, and gave the girl a small scrap of paper. "Is this home, work or personal?" the girl asked, vainly primping her hair and looking like the cat that got the cream.

"Personal, just like you asked."

Heather smiled in victory. "Excellent! Lucky for you, you have such a hot and rich brother, you just bought yourself another day, but," she added quickly, "make no mistake--- if you haven't got what I want by tomorrow, then cell number or not, I _will_ tell."

Bra pulled her legs in tight to her chest. "Don't worry. I'll get it."

Heather stood and patted her tauntingly on the head. "Good girl." She then walked away, but Vegeta couldn't care less. His sole attention was focused on Bra. He had half the mystery solved. Obviously getting Trunks' personal number was part of this bitches plan, he just wondered what the other was, and what secret Bra was so scared of being told that she would willing subject herself to the bullying and do as they asked.

He waited in heightened agitation for over an hour, hoping there might be another conversation that would shed more light on the situation, but nothing else happened. Bra stayed exactly where she was, only scooping up what she could save of her lunch until the bell rang again and she was called back into class.

There was nothing else to learn, and after struggling with his anger, he knew there would be no outlet for it. In a foul mood, he leapt off the building, landed into a crouch, and made his way back home.

Bulma met him as soon as he stepped in through the front door. "How'd it go?" she asked, taking a step back. Obviously he wasn't holding his anger back well enough. "You look like you want to kill something!"

"Not something," he barked. "Someone. Some of the bitches in her class are blackmailing her, although it seems to be more the work of a ringleader than the others."

Bulma gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "Blackmail? How… what do they want?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But I plan to find out. What time does she usually get back?"

"About four," Bulma replied. "What are you going to do?"

"Right now I'm going to train. I need a way to release my anger, and think this over calmly. Then when she returns I plan to follow her and solve this little mystery once and for all."

A/N – This idea just popped into my head as I was listening to a conversation between two parents on the way to pick my kids up from school and I couldn't wait to get back and write it down. I hope it works.

As always – super hugs and thanks to LisaB for beta-ing this chapter for me.


	4. Chapter 4

Dancing

Part Four

Disclaimer: Akira Toriyama owns DBZ not me.

Vegeta stormed out of the gravity room only a little more composed than when he entered it. He grabbed a towel from the shower room, slung it angrily around his neck and walked briskly into the changing area. He wasn't surprised, on entering, to see Trunks escaping the role of CEO by loosening his tie and kicking off his Armani shoes. With his arms crossed, and brow furrowed, he leant back against the doorframe and waited for the honour of some attention.

Trunks stripped and clambered into his training gi long before he noticed his father's energy. When his senses finally did jump to the fore he disguised his shock well. Indeed, to an ordinary onlooker the scene would appear of no moment, but Vegeta was no ordinary observer. His sharp, predatory eyesight didn't miss the tightening of his son's spine or the slight rise of his shoulders as a lesser creature might – no matter how saddened he was to see it.

Both his children, he lamented, were getting distracted from their martial arts. The most infuriating thing, however, was that he couldn't blame either of them for it. Whereas he excelled in only one area, his children shone in numerous. They had other interests to take their minds away from their heritage, and it was with shrugging acceptance Vegeta admitted they were – however alien to his notions – worthwhile interests.

This, of course, wouldn't stop him riling either of them for their neglect.

"Instantly recognizing ki energy was one of the first lessons I taught you." He shook his head. "Does anything I say actually sink in?"

Trunks merely saluted in an apology as he dug around in the bottom of his locker. "Things were a little hectic at work," he explained. "I guess I forgot to switch back on."

"You guess?" Vegeta snorted. "At work or at home, you should always keep your senses sharp and alert. What would happen if there were a powerful enemy close by, and you were shut off like that?"

"In that case you'd already be there, kicking shit and taking names. Besides, even if I did show up, you'd only tell me to butt out."

"That's not the point."

"Ah!" Trunks exclaimed. "It might not be _the_ point, but it's a good one."

"Well, well, well. Aren't we the smart arse today?" Vegeta drawled, pushing away from the doorframe and moving behind Trunks to his locker.

"Thanks… I try."

"You know, I have a very _particular_ and _unique_ way of dealing with smart arses. Care to find out what it is?"

"No, thank you! My senses will be razor sharp from now on, I promise."

"Glad to hear it." Vegeta threw his sweaty gi into the laundry chute and pulled on a clean pair of trousers. "What are you doing home so early anyway?"

"I took a half day."

Vegeta scowled as he slipped a t-shirt over his head. "You mean you're slacking off? What's your excuse this time?"

"I don't need one. You can ask Mum. She arranged it herself."

"She did?"

"Sure! She didn't want me missing out on my workout because of tonight. Not with the 'Worlds' just around the corner. Gohan isn't entering this year so she asked him to cover for me." There was a pause. "You haven't forgotten about tonight, have you? Mum is really looking forward to you being there."

Vegeta wasn't of a disposition to be uninformed on such a point. His daughter's newest performance was discussed on several occasions within his hearing, but since no one spoke directly to him about it, he assumed his wife was happy to go on her own. He never did take the trouble for these events if he could avoid it.

"No, I haven't forgotten."

"Good. It's taking place at Satan Hall so you'll need to dig out your old tux."

Vegeta sighed and rolled his eyes. "I said I hadn't forgotten, Trunks, that doesn't mean I'm actually going."

"This is a one off performance, Dad, and quite possibly Bra's big break. The world's media will be watching. It really could catapult her dancing career. You have to come, and besides, my neck's on the line."

"How so?"

"Because Mum's kind of relying on me to get you there. Come on… how bad can it be?"

Not wanting to hear any more on the subject, Vegeta turned away and made his way outside.

He wasn't overly averse to the idea of going to this one off performance for the King of Earth, but he knew it would remind him – remind him that his daughter's first and most passionate enjoyment came from dancing, not fighting. It would remind him of the inevitable: at some point in the future, she would not have the time for both. One of them would have to give way, and he would be a fool to believe there was any choice in the matter. Dancing was taking her in directions martial arts never would. He'd accepted as much, but . . . . No, he didn't want to go. He didn't want it rubbed in his face.

Trunks hadn't given up, however, and followed him outside. "You know how much it will mean to both Mum and Bra to have you there."

"I'm not going."

Keeping his father's fast pace, Trunks refused to let the subject drop. "Look, it's not really my scene either, but I'm still going," he nudged Vegeta on the arm, "and that's saying something. I don't even have a date!"

"How scandalous! Why don't you go with one of the vultures from work? You know they're all just dying to get into your wallet."

"I guess I could take one of them, but it would be nice to go with someone who actually wanted to be with _me_ and not my money."

"Who are you trying to kid? You love the attention, so stop trying to convince me otherwise. It's the '_I hired them for their excellent credentials_' all over again."

"Okay, okay, fair point, but it is starting to get a bit ridiculous. Would you believe one of Bra's school mates phoned today and asked me for a date!" He laughed out loud. "I might not have great values when it comes to women, but sheesh! That's pushing it."

Vegeta stopped dead, his scowl pinched threateningly at the bridge of his nose.

"You know," Trunks carried on, oblivious to the change in his father's mood. "I'm gonna have to talk to Bra about that. This is the third private number in a year. What's the point of it being private if Bra keeps giving it out like a free commodity?"

"What did you say to her?"

"What? Bra? I haven't spoken to her yet, she only just got back from school."

"No. I mean her… _friend_. The one who called you?"

"Wha… are you kidding? She's like twelve!"

Vegeta looked up from under two heavy-set eyebrows. "Bra's in the last year of high school; that makes this girl sixteen."

"Like that makes a difference."

"I take it you said no then."

"Are you serious?"

His voice lowered. "_Deadly._"

"Well, of course I said no. I've got better things to do with my time than baby-sit Bra's friends. Besides, you're only quizzing me about this to take the heat off your own back. I won't get put off. You've got to come tonight. Bra will be devastated if you don't."

Vegeta thought it over. There was an opportunity presenting itself somewhere in this conversation, an opportunity to get close to this bitch and assess her intentions more clearly. Vegeta mentally pounced on it. "Okay then," he concluded. "How badly do you want me to go to this thing?"

"Badly! Mum will kill me if you're not there."

"Very well then. I will go."

"You will?" Trunks asked, kicking up his heels and keeping up with Vegeta as he resumed him path.

"Yes."

"Whoa, hold up there. That was waaaay too easy. Why do I get the feeling there's more to this than you're letting on?"

"Superior parental instruction?"

"So I'm right. There is a condition – a stipulation?"

"Very good! See - keeping your senses alert and tuned into other people's energy really does make a difference."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"Very well… seeing as you are pressing the issue. I'm prepared to put myself through this ordeal, but only, and I mean _only,_ if you call this girl back and ask her to be your date for the evening."

Trunks looked like he was about to protest – and loudly. Vegeta put a hand up, silencing his son before he even had the chance to utter a word. "You should know better than anyone that this condition is non-negotiable, Trunks. Take it or leave it."

A silent but intense standoff broke out between them, each trying to stare the other down. In the end, as always, Trunks was the first to look away. His shoulders sagged. "Fine." He ran a hand through his hair. "I would love to know why you're pushing me into paedophilia, but I already know it's pointless to ask. Be ready at eight."

Vegeta nodded and silently walked away. He was almost into the main house when he stopped. "Oh, and Trunks?" he called. "Make sure your interest in this girl is believable. It'll be worth the effort… I promise."

"It had better be."

Bulma was in the hallway when Vegeta entered via the front door – a fact that almost managed to startle him. Technically his wife was in semi-retirement, but her genius still liked the indulgence of laboratory work. It wasn't strictly necessary for the survival of the company, but she would still spend a good portion of her time camped out in the comfort of invention. The empty cup of coffee in her hand, however, told him she was probably only out for a quick caffeine fix.

On seeing him, she automatically took a step out of her stride. "Are you feeling better now you've vented?" she asked, laying a hand on his chest.

Bulma was always this way with him. No matter what was going on in her world, she would automatically take a timeout to make sure he was okay. There were times, many years ago, when he vehemently protested against her interference. There were times he would physically run away from her compassion, but now Vegeta had come to accept it, appreciate it. In short, he wouldn't have it any other way.

He nodded.

He still wasn't entirely sure how he was going to rectify Bra's situation, but the groundwork was set in motion, and it certainly made him feel a little more temperate. In the long run, he believed that being privy to all this social nonsense and hobnobbing with some of the humans he most wished to avoid might well be worth the effort. Humiliating and humbling this girl would be a true pleasure. Indeed, if Bra weren't going to be on stage, Vegeta might even have looked forward to an event where he could bitch at the guests and have it accepted as normal behaviour.

"Trunks mentioned Bra was home," he said, grabbing his wife's hand and giving it the briefest of squeezes before removing it from his chest.

"She's in her lab doing some homework. I didn't fancy following her. I don't want her knowing this morning was anything more than passing curiosity." She paused and looked Vegeta straight in the eye. "Are you going to speak to her?"

He nodded.

"Be careful," she warned. "This is a delicate subject and needs to be dealt with patiently. We don't want to make things even worse."

"You think I'll make this worse?"

She sighed. "No. All I'm saying is use your smarts. I know you'll come up with something spectacular." She winked. "I'm trusting you to give that blackmailing bitch a lesson she'll _never_ forget."

Vegeta chuckled lowly. "You have my word on it." He left, walked towards the east staircase, but stopped and turned on the top step. "Bulma," he called back, startling his wife. "I'll meet you at eight," he said, "but be warned, if you're even a second late then I'm not going."

She smiled at him, wordlessly repaying him for the effort, before he turned back and moved on.

The family laboratories were located below ground, within easy distance of the subterranean hangers. With real estate so expensive in the city, Capsule Corp. was built down rather than out. The whole area was a maze of interchanging stairs and corridors. Vegeta knew them all well. He walked confidently through all the twists and turns, masking his energy along the way. Bra's ki signature wasn't where it should be, and his curiosity demanded no less than utter secrecy.

He quickly found her in Bulma's lab – something he knew his wife wouldn't take kindly to. The lighting was dull and tinted a pale green; conducive to the comfort of his wife and the delicate work she performed. Years of staring at computer screens had taken their toll, and the green light was there to stop her from developing migraines when she worked.

Just as with his son, he stood in the doorway, but this time he watched – glad to have his presence undetected. Bra hovered over a drawer in Bulma's main workstation – a drawer he identified as containing her rarest capsules. Vegeta wasn't fully aware of what Bulma kept in there, but the sight of someone else tilling through the contents was definitely unheard of since the passing of Bulma's father. That Bra effortlessly opened the drawer when it was password-protected was only secondary to Vegeta. He was dying to know where this next piece of the puzzle would fit.

He watched, patient and unseen, until Bra came up with her prize. The object she held looked like any other capsule – at least in being the typical palm-size cylindrical shape. The gold case and circlet of sapphires cut into the top, however, told a different story. It looked more like jewellery than a functioning item. Fortunately the capsule was identifiable by an engraving on the side, giving proof to even Vegeta's haphazard knowledge that it held a structure of some kind.

Bra looked it over with wide and rapturous blue eyes before shaking herself out of the spell and stuffing the capsule in her jumper pocket. She was half way through resetting the security lock when Vegeta decided to make his presence known. Taking his eyes away from the offending part of her jumper, he nonchalantly put a hand to his mouth and cleared his throat.

Never in his life had he seen her jump so high without the aid of ki. Were it under different circumstances, Vegeta might have found it amusing.

"Daddy!" she gasped. "You scared me!"

"And why would I scare you, Bra? Let me take a guess… because you're snooping around in places you don't belong – just like an assassin?"

She looked to the floor. "Daddy… I know I shouldn't be here, but…!"

"Too right you shouldn't. What are you doing in your mother's desk?"

"Oh… um… well…" She looked across the smooth top and her eyes settled on the microscope there. "The lens broke in my microscope, so I just came in here to borrow a new one."

The lies rolling off her tongue for Bulma that morning were bad enough, but the ones she threw so casually in his direction were positively repugnant. Only Bulma's words of caution stopped him calling her out there and then. "Your mother tells me you are doing homework, is that right?"

Bra nodded.

"It can wait. You haven't trained today."

"But… the assignment… it's due in tomorrow."

"I'm sure, in view of your commitments tonight, you'll be let off this once. It'll be a good warm up. Grab your staff and meet me outside in ten minutes."

"But--"

"No arguments. Ten minutes." He turned to leave.

"Daddy?" Bra called out to him. "You won't tell Mum I was down here, will you? You know she'll kill me."

"Our secret," he replied.

The lie was bitter on his tongue, but the end result was almost worth it. With eyes full of thankfulness, she came bounding over to him for a hug, and knowing he wouldn't appreciate it to continue for any length of time she quickly moved away.

"Thank you," she said, squeezing passed him and out of the door.

Vegeta watched her go. Her pace was fast and irregular – a true sign of anxiety. Once she was out of sight he relaxed his hand, not sure if he was doing the right thing, but examining the gold and sapphire capsule nonetheless.

There was no choice in the matter. He needed to consult with Bulma. He had ten minutes, only ten minutes to find her, show her the capsule, and get outside to meet his daughter without causing suspicion. It wasn't good or sensible practice to fly indoors, but for this one instance he decided to make an exception.

He entered the kitchen quickly and silently, appearing behind his wife and scaring her half to death. "Holy crap, Vegeta!" she panted, a hand over her heart. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

So long together and still he could take her by surprise, still he could scare her. He breathed in the emotion, letting it tang his canines, imprinting its familiar scent on his senses. Indescribable!

"As much as I want rid of you," he murmured into her ear. "I would at least devise a more satisfying way of doing it than scaring your feeble human heart into the next dimension." She shivered under his words. He looked to the clock. "We haven't got much time. Bra will be down in a few minutes." He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the capsule. Dropping his arm over Bulma's shoulder, he dangled the trinket in front of her face. "What is this?"

"What the…!" She looked viciously over her shoulder, meeting Vegeta's gaze head on, and scowling dangerously. "Where did you get that?" she demanded, snatching it out of his hand.

"Bra took it from your desk. I caught her sifting through your things like a common little thief. She didn't realize I was watching and concealed this capsule in her clothing. When I made my presence known to her she tried to sneak it passed me. As you can see – she failed. Tell me what it is."

"It's a capsule palace," she explained, holding it tight to her chest - her voice cracking. "One of a kind. Dad… he designed it himself. It's a beautiful building, Vegeta, made entirely from white Italian marble. My parents got married there. It used to be a permanent structure on the Island we own near Kame house, but Dad was forced to capsulate it not long after. No one was willing to insure it de-capsulated."

"Did you tell Bra about this palace?"

She let out a long breath and leant back into his chest. "Yes. Several times. Dad wanted me to get married there. Of course, seeing as you and I didn't do the whole traditional Japanese ceremony, it never happened. When he died I told Bra, whenever she finds the right man, I'd take it out to Bikini Island, and she could get married there – make it a family tradition in his honour."

"I see."

Bulma's arms twirled around one of his thick biceps. Under her emotion she squeezed it tightly, then as soon as the moment was passed, she patted it once and moved away.

"That doesn't explain why she tried to steal it," he said after an appropriate pause. "But it certainly raises a few good questions. I think it's time we tell Bra we know what's going on. I want to know what this bitch is using against her. I can't act without knowing all the facts. I'm not exactly the most hands on father, but I know when my daughter is acting out of character. Whatever this girl has on Bra has to be real, and it has to be solid. Bra is too strong to be pulled down by anything trivial."

"Yes," Bulma agreed, picking up her coffee from the counter and taking a long sip. "If only there were someway we could get closer to this girl without her becoming suspicious?"

"Oh, that's already taken care of."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "It is?"

"Trunks is taking her as his date to the performance this evening."

The mug slipped from Bulma's hands and smashed clumsily on the hard floor. "He's what!"

Vegeta chuckled. "You heard."

"But how? Why? What for…? Vegeta," she accused in a tone that he freely took pleasure from, "what are you scheming in that twisted little head of yours?"

"Now _that_ would be telling!" He smirked. "Don't worry Bulma. You want this girl to get her comeuppance as much as I do, am I right?"

"Well yes, but---"

"Then trust me. I will make sure it all turns out well."

Vegeta shifted his ebony staff from hand to hand, sizing the weight and strength. He wasn't one to go easy, even in training, and although he had trained Bra with a bamboo staff to begin with, she was experienced enough now to use a weapon with real weight and power.

She was late, but he wasn't overly concerned. He could feel her energy, panicked and spiking all over the place. From his current direction he could tell she was walking back through the laboratories, probably looking for the capsule now returned to its rightful owner.

Five more minutes he waited before she finally made an appearance. The little actress came sauntering over to him as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She might be flustered and grasping on the inside, but anyone who couldn't sense otherwise would be completely fooled. She looked the picture of serenity with her bo staff tucked neatly behind her shoulder. This, lying, scheming, blackmailed, Bra even managed to greet him with a smile.

"You're late," he snapped.

"Yeah, I lost a vital part of my homework. I had a look for it, but I can't find it anywhere."

"I see. I wondered what you were doing back in the labs."

She started at his revelation, but quickly shrugged it off to respectfully hand Vegeta her staff. "I better get on with my warm up."

"Yes, you better."

Having spent the majority of the day training, Vegeta didn't need to join her. He was left with the honour of watching, wondering just exactly how he was going to bring this subject up without making her run away from him.

In the end, however, it was decided for him.

"Hey Dad!" He looked over his shoulder to see Trunks walking up to them. "I just phoned her. It's all arranged."

"Good. I suppose if I'm going to be seen with her all evening I should at least know this girl's name."

"Heather."

"Heather." He snorted. "There are thousands of Heather's in this world. What's her surname?"

"Don't ask me. It's not like I care or anything," Trunks defended. "Perhaps Bra can tell you her surname. I'm going to be late if I don't start training now." He smiled at his sister. "See you tonight, Squirt. Do the world a favour and break a leg or two."

Bra didn't reply, she was staring off in a little world of her own. "What's up with her?" Trunks asked his father, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Bra and I need to have a little talk," he said, catching his daughter's eye. "Go train, Trunks. I'll deal with this."

"Okaaay."

Vegeta watched his son walk back to the gravity room, then drew his attention back to where it really needed to be. "Bra!" he called, but she didn't respond. "Bra!"

"Hm?"

"Are you ready?" he asked, and threw her a staff.

She caught it effortlessly. "Oh… yeah. Sorry. Are we going to start with spinning?"

"No. We'll hop right into sparring, and then if we have enough time we'll go through the forms."

She nodded. They both bowed, and then spinning the staffs they circled each other. This time, Vegeta was on the offensive, both physically and verbally. His staff initiated the first strike down, and Bra's defended.

"What's this girl's surname?" he asked, pushing her forcefully back.

Losing balance, Bra managed to tuck into a rolling back break-fall. Vegeta's next strike came in almost immediately. She scampered away, only to be met with a fresh swipe towards her side. She blocked again - her staff vertical and protecting her exposed ribs.

"How should I know?"

Vegeta spun away, making a direct strike for the other side. Again, his daughter read it perfectly and defended in the opposite direction. Their staffs met in the middle, neither one finding an advantage.

"Trunks tells me she's a school friend of yours. Is that right?"

"Oh," she said, as Vegeta pushed her away. "_That_ Heather! I think it's De Laney… De Lorey… something like that. I don't really know her all that well." She jumped as his staff swung in to sweep her ankles.

Having missed, Vegeta stood, swirling the staff at head height. Bra ducked, but Vegeta was prepared. He teleported behind her and kicked her gently from behind, forcing her over and onto her forearms. She turned onto her back, rolling away from his strikes as they honed in on her exposed position.

"Then tell me," he said, jumping into attack once more. "How long has this bitch been blackmailing you?"

This time there was no defence, no block to his strike. Her body went stiff with shock. Fortunately Vegeta had accounted for her reaction, and he held back just at the last. His staff stopped a millimetre away from her forehead. Their eyes locked and Bra didn't even flinch. Tears started to well in her eyes and after a significant amount of time, Vegeta threw his staff clean away.

He moved back and offered her a hand. She didn't take it. Instead she pushed herself up, until the tears wouldn't be held back anymore. With the last of her fight she barrelled forward into him, almost knocking him over.

In an instant the ice-queen was melted and grabbing his chest – bunching his t-shirt she cried down it. "Oh Daddy! It's horrible!"

Feeling distinctly awkward, Vegeta continued to just stare down at her, unsure what to do next. To his relief it appeared he had done enough. She sobbed a few more times, and hiccupped in between. "She knows… oh god Daddy! She knows!"


End file.
